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The dead archaeologist had found the cave. The false monk—a notorious gem thief named Sarath “The Silent”—had followed him. The “curse” was a cover. The wax fingerprint was misdirection. And the riddle on the potsherd? A warning from the victim: the fifth fingerprint is a lie —meaning, do not trust the obvious suspect.

He smiled. “‘I came alone. I leave in pieces. The rock remembers everything.’”

Mendis turned and pointed down the rock face. At the base, a saffron-robed monk was walking away, head bowed, a brass alms bowl in hand.

That night, we visited the monk’s hermitage. He was not a holy man. His saffron robe hid a military tattoo from the civil war. And his alms bowl contained not rice, but a rolled parchment—a stolen map of a hidden cave beneath Sigiriya, where legend said King Kashyapa had hidden a hoard of emeralds.